Dead of Night
by ForeverinMoonlight
Summary: -DW7- For once, he... couldn't sleep.


_Disclaimer: If you said I didn't own Dynasty Warriors... you'd be right._

**A/N:** By now, I guess this is more of a 'polite notice' than a warning, but anyway... There are spoilers for the DW7 Jin story here, as events are referenced from it, and this fic also quotes directly from a cutscene in it too.

* * *

**Dead of Night**

It was a perfect night, all things considering. Still, and quiet, with no threat of interruption. Rooms light and airy at just the right temperature, while Nature outside merely murmured. Nothing rose above 'subdued', as if even the landscape itself was trying to lull you into slumber.

..Perfect conditions. _Perfect_.

Funny then, that somehow _he _was the only one unable to take advantage of them.

Yeah. Unbelievable, right? It had to be some kind of first, but here he was. Lying down. Comfortable. Waiting, with practised (beyond instinctive) ease to drift away on quiescence too. Like every other night (and day), and yet..

_No._

It had stretched out.

_..Still nothing_.

Sima Zhao had been baffled. Confusion had been the only thing then to cloud his brain, and muffle his thoughts. _..Why..?_ It wasn't as if he wasn't tired enough – Gods, no.. He was downright _weary. _He could really do with some shut-eye, and putting this past day long behind him.

Also, it was.. disturbing, actually. To say the least. Zhao _never_ had trouble sleeping. Never. He was the lazy guy! The one people had to often beg to stay awake, or were forced to wake up themselves! _Urgh.._

And this was getting ridiculous. Lying down was great and all, but not if he was only left to _think_ at the same time. Right now, he just couldn't do with the extra bother. _Or.. Any bother at-_

_Sigh._ He was probably better off getting up. Maybe taking a midnight stroll would do him some good?

_Eh, whatever._ Zhao started to rise, dragging himself out of bed with a groan.

_Might as well try for a distraction_.

* * *

Leaving his 'grand residence' was surprisingly easy. His stealth skills served him well, which at one point would have given him some small triumph. Now however, to his irritation it felt.. disheartening. _Guards are going to need more training..._

Sima Zhao let out a breath of air. He didn't have to deal with that at the moment – it could be seen to tomorrow. _Leave it._ Think about the calm breeze or something. There wouldn't be much time left for just walking the streets like this any more. _Make the most of it._

He kept walking, following an obscure route that he knew off by heart. Zhao had frequented this area over the years, though always by day. Darkness now muted the atmosphere, and despite it always being fairly empty, the complete lack of activity made even the _expected _sparsity more eerie.

The air was refreshing, and he did find himself glad that he was moving for once, as it gave him something to focus on.

..However limited.

It wasn't enough. Everything was so familiar and nice and ideal, tonight.. Yet.. _It just wasn't enough_. It was almost.. _too _subdued – or was it in himself? ..This was such a _pain_. Sure, he could understand not feeling wonderful, given recent events – that was practically a given, but... This _restlessness._ The _unease_. A heavy weight so much more unbearable than before – _this..-_ It was.. worse. Worse than 'simple' grief. _So much more_-

.._Ngh.. _He was doing that thinking thing again. _Stop it_. Seriously. Zhao, what good is that going to do you? Just.. keep walking. Or... something. He didn't know what else to do. What else could he.. What else could he _really_ do?

Dissatisfied, he concentrated on keeping up the pace. Continued to drift, despite getting (somehow) ever closer to what he was trying to avoid, and still avoiding what he was trying to close in on.

..Man, but he was tired. Barely days since it had all changed and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. ..A month. A _year_. Please – but of course he couldn't. He wouldn't have been allowed – least of all now...

Now, when..

..When.. (_He_ had)

..You know.

_Sigh.._-

Wait. What was that..? _Up ahead._

(Sniff, sniff)

That.. that _smell..._

He was only just picking up the scent that was drifting like he was, albeit lazily and in a far more carefree manner than he himself could achieve. Inhaling it was like breathing in song which his stomach wanted to join in with. Zhao hadn't realised his hunger before that moment, and his mouth was starting to water, his spirits already lifting at the prospect of sating it.

_Yeah.. Maybe a _midnight snack_ will do the trick..!_

He wasn't sure what the food was yet, but it smelt _good_, and was cloyingly familiar. Whoever had it wouldn't mind if he tried a _small portion_, right..?

A renewed sense of purpose brought him a renewed sense of energy, and he began to follow his nose.

It was so obvious. _Of course._ Eating something was bound to help with sleep – it was well known. It was only stupid that he hadn't thought of it sooner, to be honest. But either way; regardless he would _finally _be able to enjoy this then get some wonderful wonderful _res_...-

He had stopped.

(Thoughts, petered out as well as motion.)

_Froze._

(_Eyes widening.._)

So.

..This was the source of that delicious smell.

It had to be, and it was innocent enough. Ordinary looking. A wooden, simple tray placed on a wall; probably for the contents to cool. On top of the tray – one, two, three, four, five... _Hah_, no. What did the number matter. It was.. what they actually _were_.

"_Barbecued pork wrapped in that silky smooth bun...-"_

_Baozi_.

Meat buns.

_..Meat buns_.

That was all they were, yet.. The very sight of them felt like a physical punch. His mouth had dried all of a sudden, bar for the faint taste of bile, while his body felt like it had been dipped in ice water. Any warmth had left the air.

_He kept staring_.

It was not just _baozi _that he saw. _Heh, no_... Never. What – _who_ else could you associate with meat buns, but his brother..? The two were synonymous.

"_-My precious meat bun-"_

"_Zhao, _try_ and make an effort-"_

"_Watch and see how a true genius approaches a battle."_

"_Mwahaha!"_

Shi.

"_Thank you for coming."_

Memories danced around in his head, but none more vivid in those seconds than _that one_.

The last time..

"_Wounded by Wei's hatred my wound has been further gouged by their tenacity."_

They'd spoken. The last time he'd heard his brother speak. It rushed forward from the corner he'd shoved it to, spilling over into strong recollection.

Candlelight. A bed in a camp. Within a man forced to retire there, the sight so contrary to his nature that it was uncomfortable to bear; _rattling_. Strength encumbered and weakened, an already ailing wound a bloody mess.. Worn like it was an irritation, but the danger was all too real and obvious; unspoken.

"_It's all such a waste..."_

Final moments, enfolding like a familiar _terrible _play which _he couldn't stop_.

"_You must lead in my place, Brother. Use it as you see fit."_

Too familiar _it wasn't supposed to be happening again._

"_Hah. I've heard that somewhere before."_

_Laughter_, to fade away and never return.

Though it rang in his ears, Zhao would never hear it again. No one would.

Because Shi.. was _gone_. Just like Father.

Both of them..

_Dead._

Sima Zhao swallowed. Turned his head away – though it wasn't like he had an appetite any more. His eyes roamed, unseeing before they somehow settled on...

_Another meat bun_.

_Nearby, fallen on the ground before him – soiled and dirty and _wasted..-

_..!_

The anger came out of nowhere.

Or perhaps it had simply surfaced. Either way fury struck like lightning and Zhao lashed out, red flashing through him. The baozi was kicked, soared some great distance, doubtlessly mangled before it hit the floor. Parts remained unnoticed on his shoe as he _burned_ – a bitter wildfire raging inside him as he made a frustrated sound.

_Why..?! _It wasn't even the _loss_. You _expected _the loss, hollow and aching though it was. No.. It was the.. _hah_, betrayal and anger and hurt and _helplessness_

Why did they leave? _Why _had he _left_. Because it was mainly him – Shi. Father had been older and it was somehow imminent and inevitable yet _Brother_ had been too young and hadn't even...

_Why? Why did you have to leave it to me?!_

_Shi_ had been the brilliant one. _Not Zhao_! Shi had been so _brilliant –_ when he'd taken over it had been so natural; taking the mantle up as if he was born to wear it. Which, _damn it _he _was_.

_Had been.._

And look at him. Sima Zhao. The only one left, and certainly the one which people depended on least. Which had been fair enough – _why bother_, might as well just be lazy; why do anything when Father and Brother were geniuses and could do it _that much better_? They had been the ones to look to.

Don't get him wrong – he by no means believed he was bad, but.. How could he live up to _them_..?

Why did he.. _have to_?

_Rrgh.._ Zhao shook with the effort of restraint; he'd never been good at that sort of thing. But he had a duty now – a _duty _to not be found in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder and hammering his fists against the ground by a nearby peasant.

Duty. _Responsibility_. It had already got so much heavier in the past few days.. The pressure overbearing, the weight making him baulk at the thought of it. So many people now relied on him – him; _that lazy Sima, what was the point of him again_? Every last decision his own, with practically every action he made to be based on duty. Or what was best for everyone. Or what wouldn't get himself killed. _Or all three_. Or even more than that.

And he couldn't think about it without _panicking_, and he hated himself for that too. _How pathetic.. What would Shi or Father say?_

He could sense their disapproval now, damn them both.

..But he'd never _face _their disapproval ever again – not in this life. .._Damn them even more. _He was on his own...

Already, he was so tired. Already, the expectations (and lack thereof) were wearing down on him.

..It hadn't even been _a_ _week_. Not four days ago, he had been standing over Brother's.. corpse, wondering foolishly what the hell happened now. ..Terrified, because he knew the answer.

_It still scared him_. If he stopped, much like this, there was that biting fear. Fear as constant a presence as the loss, and yeah, probably the anger... _All of these things_ getting harder to ignore or escape as the days dragged by.

Tonight – such a perfect night – even sleep had been denied from him.

_No escape_.

_Argh, _and all he wanted to do was _rest_. It was kind of a requirement..-Or.. _No_. You could go so far as to say it was his _duty _to be rested.

(Well, that was _one_ duty he was more than happy to go along with...)

Zhao looked around, heaving a sigh. At least, he shouldn't be out here like this. It really would be a pain for everyone if he got himself killed so quickly. (Embarrassing, too.)

_Better head back_. Hopefully the walk had done him some sort of good. The prospect of returning and dozing was definitely appealing to him, but for that – and everything else..?

Only time would tell, he supposed. For now, it might be wise to at least _try_.


End file.
